


Sensitivity

by ThatLoyalHufflepuff



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Body Appreciation, Loving Sex, M/M, Smut, Twoshot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-28
Updated: 2013-08-28
Packaged: 2017-12-24 22:12:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,070
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/945263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatLoyalHufflepuff/pseuds/ThatLoyalHufflepuff
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>England marvels at how beautiful France actually is, and decides to appreciate him in the bedroom. UKFr, loving sex and body appreciation. Smut, two shot. Human names used.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hands slid up a toned chest, fingers brushing against the short blond hairs littered there. Slim fingers toyed with the pink nipples, hands paler than the other’s skin. A moan, interrupted by a needy gasp. A chuckle, followed by one of the hands slinking down the muscular yet somehow slim body. Arthur’s hand slid under the waistband of Francis’ impossibly tight jeans, cupping him through his underwear. His teeth nipped at the taut skin of his throat, tongue tracing over the pale scar circling the top of his neck. He smirked at the shuddered gasp ripped from the other’s lips, his free hand moving to brush the fluffy, baby hair at the base of Francis’ neck away. He covered the already decorated skin in more kisses, leaving light bruises. His teeth gently scraped from his neck to his shoulder, biting that delicious muscle there. Oh, how he secretly admired Francis. Who knew a simple activity such as farming and parkour could sculpt a body this beautiful, that just asked to be treated like this? His lips pulled away from Francis’ neck, his hand leaving the other’s trousers. He grinned at the disappointed whine, his hands gently placing themselves on Francis’ waist. He squeezed him, noting how the early summer tinted his skin a slight caramel colour. Francis twitched in slight shock, the muscle jumping against Arthur’s ever so gentle hands.

Arthur’s hands snaked up Francis’ back, thumbs skimming the purple scars which traced from the small of his back to his shoulders. They moved back down, sliding over the gentle curve from Francis’ hips - which were wider than the average male’s, Arthur had noticed, not that he minded. It made it so much easier to do certain… Things. He slipped his hands into the back pockets of Francis’ black skinny jeans, squeezing that amazingly firm, round arse. He bit his lip, drawing in a breath as the Frenchman’s back arched, his hips pushing back. His eyes snapped to the light hair on the bottom of Francis’ back, the dark blond strands glinting in the light.

"Please…" A whine, accompanied by a desperate wriggle of Francis’ hips against his hands. Oh God, he wanted him. Arthur wanted Francis so, so badly. Not yet, though. He knew that Francis hadn’t been admiring himself as much as usual. Francis hadn’t told him, of course, but he had learned to identify the phases of the French nation’s confidence. He took his hands out of the pockets, firmly folding his fingers around Francis’ hips. His fingers moulded around the slight jut of his hipbones. He turned his lover around, guiding him by his hips to the dining table. A pair of strong arms wrapped lovingly around his neck, pulling him into a passionate kiss. Francis’ lips, always soft as rose petals, were pressing against Arthur’s, parting to allow the Englishman to lead the kiss.

Francis’ arse hit the table, and he broke the kiss, looking around in slight confusion. He turned back to Arthur, a perfectly arched eyebrow cocked. Arthur nodded. Like he was going to wait to get Francis upstairs, when they could do it perfectly well here. Not sex, no. That was for tonight, when they had almost endless hours to spend loving each other, Arthur proving to Francis how stunningly beautiful he truly was. He lifted Francis, placing him on the table. Fingertips trailing down the outside of those slim thighs, he parted Francis’ legs. He took one last look over Francis’ body - that stomach. It was perfectly flat, not a single roll of fat, even when sitting all hunched over like he was now. There had to be some kind of witchcraft involved; there simply had to be.

Francis kissed along Arthur’s jaw, shifting slightly. He didn’t mind Arthur looking at him, but he didn’t appreciate being interrupted mid-kiss. He felt fingers tilt his face away, and he pouted. All feelings of frustration were quickly wiped away, Arthur’s tongue tracing up to the top of his throat again. Teeth dragged over his jaw, drawing a deep gasp. Francis’ toes curled, muscles in his calves clenching. Oh God. Arthur knew where his sensitive spots were, and he always took advantage. Fingers tangled in the thick waves of Francis’ hair, tugging gently. The response was almost immediate; Francis long legs wrapped around Arthur’s waist, pulling him closer. Arthur’s thick eyebrows raised in surprise, feeling Francis’ hardness against his stomach. Really, already? And he hadn’t even touched him… He smirked, his ego rising just a tad. 

He nibbled and sucked the jaw, not caring about the stubble against his mouth. The gasps and moans of pleasure were worth it, second only to the garbled French filling the air. Francis had started rolling his hips against Arthur’s, his needy instincts overtaking his actions. Arthur rested a hand on the curve of Francis’ lower back, pressing their torsos impossibly close. He felt the heat of Francis skin through his shirt, the Frenchman’s manicured fingernails digging into his back.

He smirked against Francis’ neck, taking his hands away. He reached up, fingers circling around Francis’ wrists. He lifted the other’s hands, moving his upper body away. He dropped Francis’ arms, reaching around to push his legs down. He pressed a kiss to the adorable, shocked pout on Francis lips, looking into those azure eyes currently filled with lust and… Was that hurt? Oh no… He better make it up to him. A teasing finger traced underneath Francis’ jaw, along the angular bone.

"Bed, now."


	2. Chapter 2

A wide grin spread across Francis’ face, one that Arthur adored since it flaunted his perfectly shaped teeth. The Frenchman moved from in front of Arthur, his gorgeous hips angling alluringly, his flexibility meaning he could easily swing his legs around. Excitedly, he ran from the dining room, scampering upstairs. He threw the bedroom door open, launching himself onto the bed. He lay on his back, legs bent at the knee and open, waiting. He panted excitedly, his mind filling with expectation, arousal heightening. He bit his lip, his hands clenching around the blankets to stop from stroking himself as he heard Arthur’s painfully slow footsteps on the bottom floor. What on Earth was taking him so long?!

Arthur’s smirk never left his face, making sure his slow movements would build Francis’ anticipation. He walked into the bedroom, hands in his pockets and sandy blond hair falling into his eyes. He crawled onto the bed, legs straddling Francis’ waist. Gentle kisses were pressed to his face, coating his forehead, cheeks and nose. Arthur, spurred on by Francis’ fingers twisting in the blankets, moved across his jaw, skilled tongue tracing along the skin. His slender hands found themselves teasing Francis’ hips. His fingertips ghosted along his hipbones, brushing through the trail of hair leading down from his bellybutton. He pushed Francis hips down, stilling the impatient squirm. He shuffled down, trailing kisses down Francis’ beautifully sculpted torso until he was in line with his crotch.

A whine of need, followed by the French nation’s long fingers tangling in Arthur’s hair. The Englishman removed them, pinning them down as he kissed Francis’ hips, nipping the creamy skin. His tongue flicked out, carving patterns down to the waistband of his jeans. His forest green eyes flicked up, drinking in the sight of Francis’ flushed face, his bottom lip trembling as he fought moans. Arthur let go of Francis’ wrists, briefly dragging his fingers up the lean muscles on his forearms, brushing his hands down his lover’s sides. He squeezed his hips, moving to slowly undo his jeans. He slid them down, frowning slightly. As much as he loved Francis in skinny jeans, he hated how they were awkward and annoying to get off. Francis lifted his hips, helping Arthur. The Brit moved, pulling them down off of his strong legs. He stopped, finding himself admiring him again. His eyes snaked down from the tent in Francis’ boxers, over the muscle in his thighs, down to the thick, toned calves. He hooked his fingers under Francis’ socks, pulling them off. He sighed, shaking his head slightly. Francis even has pretty feet; was there anything about this man that wasn’t impossibly attractive?! Even the thick coating of hair across his legs turned Arthur on, a permanent reminder that his boyfriend was a perfect juxtaposition; undeniably feminine, but undeniably masculine.

"Arthur!" A wantonly moan filled the air, snapping Arthur out of his daydream. He placed his hands on the inside of Francis’ thighs, sliding them up as he moved onto the bed again. He palmed Francis’ arousal through his boxers, before frowning.

"Are these mine?"

Francis looked down, sitting up a little. A sneaky smile snuck its way across his face, joining the aroused flush and lust filled eyes. “Oui.”

“Damn…” The blue material hugged Francis’ hips and member far better than they ever sat on his own. Arthur was sure that his arse looked better too. One way to check. He abandoned his previous plan, sliding his hands under Francis’ back and hauling him into a sitting position. He peeked over the broad shoulders, pushing the wavy locks out of the way. His eyes widened, his lips parting. He was wrong; Francis’ arse didn’t look better. It looked amazing, even sitting. A hand snuck down to it, squeezing teasingly. Two moans joined the air, one at the feeling of having their ass squeezed, one at the sight of the scarred back arching.

Francis’ hands found themselves cupping Arthur’s neck, toying with his hair. His lips kissed along his shoulder, a wordless plea of need. Arthur nodded, gently pushing Francis back down and resuming his previous position. He slowly peeled the boxers off him, watching lustfully as his hard member was revealed. Arthur blew lightly on it, heightening Francis’ sensitivity. Francis whined in response, desperate for contact. His head tipped back, eyes sliding shut as Arthur’s teasing fingers gently wrapped around his shaft. Arthur’s hand slid up and down Francis’ member, watching as the other’s breath caught in his throat, the muscles in his stomach jumping. Arthur’s pink tongue darted out, licking the tip, dragging along that thick, throbbing vein. He squeezed the head gently, his other hand massaging and cupping Francis’ balls.

All too soon, Arthur pulled away. Francis groaned, his cock twitching at the sudden loss of contact. The Englishman stood, unzipping his trousers and letting them hang loose. He reached over Francis, retrieving the lubricant off the bedside cabinet. His eyes flicked over to the Frenchman, who was panting heavily, watching with half lidded eyes.

"Suck." The command rang clear through the air. Francis scrambled to his knees, hands flying to Arthur’s hips. He eagerly pushed the irritating barrier of clothing down, tongue poking out to brush against Arthur’s erection as soon as it was free. He greedily lapped at the head, a hand coming up to steady it. He pushed forward, taking it into his mouth, hardly flinching. Sometimes, Arthur wondered if Francis even had a gag reflex. The Englishman shuddered at the expert flick of Francis’ hot tongue along the ridge of his shaft, hissing in pleasure. His free hand tangled in the blond waves, guiding Francis’ head along his member.

Francis hollowed his cheeks, sucking and sliding his tongue along the thick erection in his mouth. His azure eyes flicked up, meeting Arthur’s gaze. He smirked slightly, before allowing the cock to slide into his throat. He hummed, vibrations flying up the organ. With a groan, Arthur pulled away, not wanting to finish too quickly. This wasn’t about him. Francis had spent so many nights making Arthur feel… Amazing; it was time he returned the favour. He dropped the lube onto the bed, guiding Francis down so he lay on his back, underneath him. His hasty hands found the bottle, opening the lid and pouring a generous amount onto his hand. He threw the bottle aside, impatient. Rubbing the liquid between his palms to warm it, he wrapped one hand around his shaft. The fingers of his other hand rubbed over Francis’ entrance, one fingertip sliding easily past the ring of muscle. He kissed the Frenchman, distracting him from any discomfort as he moved his finger in and out, loosening him. He curled his fingers, adding another. He searched for that bundle of nerves, the one trigger that made Francis scream. If Arthur had to choose between everything impossibly sexy about Francis, it be a hard choice between his flexibility and that scream when he climaxed. He loved it, since it only ever happened when he was bottoming, and when Arthur knew he had pressed all the right spots.

Francis ripped away from the kiss, the trail of saliva connecting their lips breaking. His gently swollen lips parted, gasping for air as whimpers of pleasure escaped them. His hips rolled, pushing onto Arthur’s fingers. Slim fingers skimmed up the Englishman’s arms, tangling in his hair. Francis’ long legs hooked around his waist, pulling him closer. He bit the inside of his lip, tilting his head back. His blond hair cascaded down, across the pillow. Arthur glanced up from his face, eyes following the flow of the blond strands. He leaned forward, pressing a kiss to Francis’ forehead as a third finger slid into him, earning a loud moan. His free hand raked over the soft hair, lovingly fanning it out. He breathed in, the smell of Francis’ blueberry shampoo filling his nose. He let his hand run down Francis’ face, cupping his cheek as he pressed a deep kiss to his lips, his fingers sliding out of him. He placed a hand on his slim waist, lining their hips up. He stopped, feeling a push against his chest. Frowning, he pulled out of the kiss.

"Clothes." A muttered word escaped Francis’ lips, before Arthur’s jumper was peeled over his head. Francis tossed it to the side, eyes roving over his body hungrily. His hands moved to his chest, before his wrists were trapped by the Briton.

"No more." A gentle push to Francis’ shoulders sent him back down to the bed, and Arthur aligned them, the head of his member against Francis’ entrance. Slowly kissing up his neck, Arthur pushed inside, stopping at the hilt. He smirked at the whine spilling from Francis’ lips, filling the air. He felt the Frenchman’s hips tilt up, silently begging for more. Francis’ fingers skimmed along his shoulders, his arms wrapping around his neck. Cerulean eyes met forest green, followed by their lips connecting in yet another kiss.

Arthur’s hips bucked, creating a slow and tender pace for them. Francis’ toes curled, his legs tightening around him as he pushed his hips back to meet the other’s. Gasps and pants echoed around them, disturbing the otherwise silent house. Their hands had moved, leaving Francis with one arm around Arthur’s neck. Arthur had a hand on his waist. Their free hands were together, fingers tightly interlocked. In between kisses and moans, words of adoration were exchanged, more from Arthur than anything. Francis was busy trying not to scream too loudly, and for some reason, trying not to cry at the sentiment of it all. Recently, they had been going through a rough patch, and Francis was growing worried that Arthur didn’t love him anymore.

Arthur froze, face falling. He had stolen a peek at Francis’ face through another kiss, only to notice tears in his eyes. His face fell, and his hand flew from his waist to his cheek, stroking an escaped tear away.

"What’s wrong?"

"I just love you, so much."

Sensing the impending flow of emotion, Arthur pulled Francis into a tight hug, pushing further into him at the same time. He pressed kisses to his shoulders and neck, rubbing his back, not flinching at the bumps from his scars. Francis was clinging to his neck, biting his lip as he blinked back tears.

"I love you too."

Francis squeaked, his hand covering his mouth. He pulled out of the hug, keeping their chests together. Hands moulding around Arthur’s pale face, he pressed loving kisses to his lips, bucking his hips slightly. As much as he wanted to cuddle, the heat rapidly pooling in his lower stomach distracted him.

With a low chuckle, Arthur took his hands, threading their fingers together. He rested his knees on the bed, leaning up slightly. He resumed their tempo, rolling his hips to brush against his sensitive prostate a few times. His hand left Francis’, wrapping around his throbbing shaft. He thumbed the head, rubbing the slit. He stroked it slowly, focusing on the thick vein on the underside. Francis’ moans became louder, and Arthur’s quickened his thrusts, moving his hand to match. Watching Francis’ face, he bit his lip as he grinned, waiting. Sure enough, after a few more seconds, it was too much for the Frenchman. His release spilled out of him as he screamed, his back arching. The hand that held Arthur’s clenched, holding tightly as his seed spilt over his stomach in three fluid lines. His walls tightened as his orgasm ripped through him, causing Arthur to moan.

Teeth clenched, Arthur pushed Francis’ legs down, almost folding him in half as he pushed deeper into him. Soon, pleasure waved over him, and he came inside his lover, head dropping onto his chest. Panting, he rode out his orgasm, slowing to a stop. His arms wrapped around Francis’ waist as he slid his softening member out of him, rolling to the side. Francis curled around him, grimacing slightly at the feeling of cum slipping out of him.

Francis fingers gently tapped the underside of Arthur’s chin, tilting his face up to capture his lips in a kiss. Arthur’s eyes slid shut, pulling him into his chest. His lips moved slowly against Francis’, hands sliding across his skin. Sighing, he pulled away, eyes washing over Francis’ body, which seemed to glow in the aftermath.

"Bloody hell, Francis. You’re gorgeous." He muttered, meeting those azure eyes he adored so much. He smiled at the pink flush spreading over Francis cheeks; something that didn’t happen often, but he loved when it did.

"Shush, you." With a smirk, Francis pushed him onto his back, straddling his waist. He lifted his hair, arching his back as he ground their hips together. Raising a perfectly arched eyebrow in a flawless show of seduction, he bit his lip.

”Ready for round two, mon cher?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are, finished. Let me know what you thought?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I hate to ask, but reviews would be great uwu


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